“Let us hurry on deck,” cried Oliver. “There is not a moment to spare.”
There was no need to hurry Gus, for that youth was already struggling to get into his clothing. By the time Oliver was ready, Gus was also dressed. As they rushed out and into the cabin, they met Mr. Whyland. He was deadly pale.
“I was just going to call you,” he said. “I was afraid you had not heard the cries.”
“What is the matter?” asked Oliver. “Where is the fire?”
“In the forward hold. It started in some loose waste that ought never to have been allowed there.”
“Is it dangerous?” faltered Gus.
“I hope not; but we cannot tell. It is a hard fire to get at.”
By this time the three were on deck. All was confusion. The pump attached to the engine had been brought into play, and the sailors were pouring the water into the hold as well as they were able.
“Don’t be alarmed,” said Captain Morris, as calmly as he could. “It may be all over in an hour. It is a small fire.”